


Nostalgia

by Amberlynn1425



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drarry, M/M, Nostalgia, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 11:19:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amberlynn1425/pseuds/Amberlynn1425
Summary: Harry remembers his life with Draco.





	Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to writing fan-fiction. Any comments are welcome.

The boxes from the top of his closet crashed down as Harry fell off of his step-stool. Damn knee! He absentmindedly reached down to rub the old wound that had caused him so much trouble over the years. His hand got caught in something on its way to his knee. Harry looked down to see his hand stuck in his old auror robes. He immediately felt a lump rise in his throat and tears prick at his eyes.  
Truth be told, his knee wasn’t that bad. He remembered the night that the curse was thrown at him. Despite the wound, he had skipped St. Mungo’s and gone straight up the stairs. Draco used to worry so much, Harry remembered. He used to act exasperated by the constant nagging and reminders to "be careful!" But truthfully, he loved it. Harry had loved being loved by Draco and all that it entailed. Which is why he had rushed home - to let his husband know that he was all right. Because he knew that Draco would hear of his knee before anybody else did and Harry could never stand the thought of Draco worrying.  
It wasn’t really the knee that had made him retire that night, it was what he came home to.  
Harry knew that his job was dangerous, but he thought the danger only applied to him. It wasn’t until he came home to an empty and ransacked house that he realized the danger extended to those he loved most. Harry saw the note left for him on the counter and didn't even think to contact the other aurors in the department. He simply followed the instructions. He had walked straight into their trap. And once he was there, once that scum Death Eater revival group had him where they wanted him, they killed the man that they had used for bait.  
With Draco gone, there was nobody home at the end of the day, waiting with sarcastic remarks at the kitchen table. There was nobody to tell him that his shirt was crooked in the morning or to ask him to comb his hair just one more time in a vain attempt to get it to stay in place. There was no more bickering, there were no more insults, there was no more love. Draco was gone and he had taken Harry’s happiness with him.  
Harry would do anything to have it back, to have him back. But Draco would never come back. And it was Harry’s fault. This was why the robes were stored at the top of the closet.   
Carefully folding the robes, Harry winced as he stood back up. His knee ached as he righted the step-stool and climbed to put the memories back on the top shelf of a rarely used closet. Harry would rather not think about aurors. He would rather not remember the happiness he used to have. He was perfectly content with reading the newspaper each morning while drinking tea, going for a walk, coming home to make supper and read a book, and then going to bed with the help of the ever-present Dreamless Sleep that he kept on the nightstand. It was a safe life. It was enough of a life.  
And Harry only ever realized it was a lie of a life when he was hit with nostalgia.


End file.
